


Replacement

by ilse_writes



Series: Partners [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Death of a pet, Dialogue Heavy, Gavin Reed has cats, Kittens, M/M, Nines and Gavin get closer, Nines just wants to make things better, POV Alternating, POV Gavin, POV Nines, Sad Gavin, Soft Gavin, Very minor role for Tina Chen, losing a pet, soft everyone, soft nines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 12:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19317916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: The detective is never late for work, so it's only natural that Nines worries about his partner being anything less than punctual. When Gavin eventually arrives at work, he is clearly distraught. When Nines finds out why, he makes it his mission to fix things. Only... his good intentions are not appreciated at first.





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Soft, softer, softest... Soft kitty!

It is 8.32 AM. The detective is two minutes late. He is never late. Depending on traffic and the stress of their week Gavin Reed always enters the precinct between 8.15 and 8.30 AM. Except when they have the night shift, a rotating schedule that has the detectives and other higher ranking officers work nights on thursdays to sundays. Crime never sleeps, especially not on the nights that most of the bars in Detroit are open until early morning. When they work a night shift, the detective arrives during the fifteen minutes before 8 PM.  
He might be hungover, sleep-deprived or unshaven, the detective’s punctuality never falters.

Three minutes late. Nines checks their work calendar; there is nothing scheduled that would keep the detective out of the office. He has a dentist appointment next week, the android put it in when he heard him talk to the assistant on the phone. He also set an alert to inform detective  Reed of the appointment an hour beforehand. 

Four minutes late. There are no traffic warnings for the roads between the detective’s home and the precinct.

Five minutes late. Nines decides to send a message to the detective’s phone.   
> _ You are running late, detective. I hope there isn’t anything wrong.  
_ He deletes the last sentence before he sends out the leftover five word text.

The message is read three minutes later. There is no reply. Nines ponders on whether he should worry or not. There is a multitude of reasons that could make the detective run late, from simply having overslept to being kidnapped by Red Ice dealers. The list in his brain is long, one reason even more improbable than the other. The fact that the message was read means detective Reed is alive, unless someone took his phone from him. That seems highly unlikely; like a true child of his time the detective is glued to his phone. 

Connor walks past his desk with a cup of coffee for the lieutenant in his hand. “Good morning, Nines,” he says pleasantly. “Something on your mind?”

The RK900 schools his face in an even more neutral expression. There are not many people who pick up on the only minimal expressions his facial features are capable of, though it is easier for androids than humans. It’s something the detective keeps surprising him with; he seems to have a high alertness to his android partner’s mimic.  
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not worth sharing.” Even in casual conversation the negotiator in Connor pops up.

“The detective is running late.”

“I see.” Connor is silent for a second, no doubt running his own checks on traffic and other events that would have an effect on the detective’s arrival. “Maybe he overslept?”

“He read the message I sent him.”

“A personal appointment perhaps?” 

Nines nods. “That must be it.” 

“He’ll show up. The detective is harder to get rid of than a mustard stain on your favourite shirt.”

“White vinegar should help to remove the stain,” Nines replies, before realizing it was only an empty expression. The RK800 is significantly better at emulating human behavior and speech than he is. Connor ignores his silly answer and smiles before walking away to present the lieutenant with his coffee.  
His predecessor is probably right. The detective has personal business to attend to and will arrive at the office when he is done.

Detective Reed enters the bullpen at 11.07 AM. Nines’ sensors are immediately on alert. Hunched shoulders, a drag in his step, dark rings under his slightly red eyes… The detective must have hardly slept last night. His brows are furrowed like he has a headache. The android’s systems alert him of the possibility of a hangover. Maybe the detective drank too much last night and that’s why he is late.

His partner doesn’t react to his initial ‘good morning’ and Nines decides that 11.09 is a perfectly adequate time for morning coffee. He goes to the break room to get a cup of coffee - black, one sugar and a drop of milk - and places that on the desk beside the detective’s keyboard. “Good morning, detective. Did you have a rough night?”

The detective grunts a reply, sounding like a combination of ‘thank you’ and ‘fuck off’.  
Nines backs off, returning to his desk and wondering why he didn’t pick up on any signs of alcohol in the human’s system. Perhaps his body had already worked it out, although that didn’t explain the bloodshot eyes and heightened stress level. 

Nines leaves the detective be, keeping an eye on him from his own desk. Detective Reed works on the report of their most recently closed case and it takes him 2.8 times longer than usual. He’s also sighed a total number of twelve times in the past hour. When the detective pushes his chair away from his desk and grabs a pack of cigarettes from his desk drawer, Nines decides to follow him outside. 

Detective Reed leans with his back against the wall next to the back entrance of the office. He struggles to light his cigarette and sighs deeply after the first draft.  
“What do you want, tin can?” he asks tiredly, acknowledging his partner for the first time since his arrival. 

“I want to inform after your well-being, detective,” Nines answers. “I suspect something is wrong and perhaps talking about it will help deflate your stress levels.”

“You scanning me again?” The sting in his words is less effective because of the tiredness the human displays.

“I don’t need to scan you in order to see you don’t feel well. Did something happen, detective?”

Detective Reed takes an angry draft of his cigarette. The smoke curls up on both sides of his nose. Nines would like to remind him of the dangers to his health, yet now is not the time.

“My cat died,” the detective suddenly says. “That fucking happened.”

The detective’s cats. Two American Shorthairs from the same nest. One male, one female. Both white with patches of grey and black stripes. Nines has seen them a couple of times when he picked the detective up at home.  
“Sid or Nancy?”

“Nancy.” The detective squashes his cigarette against the wall and flicks it away towards the gutter. “She had a stroke last night. Vet tried, but she was too far gone. Had to put her down.”

Before Nines can offer some consoling words his partner trudges back inside, purposefully ignoring him. 

Detective Reed stays quiet for the rest of the afternoon. He works on his reports and stares at his terminal, avoiding eye contact with the people around him. Officer Chen comes by, also picking up on her friend’s bad mood. They exchange some quiet words, ending in officer Chen giving him a one sided hug. Nines yearns to give his partner some consolation too, yet he doesn’t know how.

<RK900> _ Connor? Why do humans have pets? _

<Connor> _ Companionship. They enjoy taking care of them. Cuddling. _

<Connor> _ Why do you ask? _

<Nines> _ The detective had to euthanize one of his cats this morning. It has him feeling very down. _

<Connor> _ I can imagine. I would miss Sumo very much if he came to die. _

Nines reflects on that. He preconstructs visiting the lieutenant’s home without the large Saint Bernard welcoming him by slobbering his pants. It leaves him with clean slacks and a strange, hollow feeling around his Thirium pump.

<RK900> _ I think I know what you mean. _

His partner lost his cat. He no longer has the pet who offered him companionship. An unrequested preconstruction of detective Reed snuggling up on his couch with two cats on his lap pops up. Nines processes it thoroughly before dismissing the preconstruction. The detective once explained him he had two cats so they wouldn’t get lonely if he worked long hours. That leaves Nines with the notion that not only the detective misses his cat, but the remaining cat would miss its sibling too. He would very much like to fix that for both of them.

The solution presents itself at an unexpected place. Nines is at the hospital’s morgue to take some DNA-samples of a stabbing victim, when he notices a cardboard box inside the little office. The assistant that showed him the body explains how they found some stray kittens in the back alley. She plans to take them to the pound after her shift; her boyfriend already dropped off their own pet carrier so she can transport them more easily.   
“They seem to be in good health,” she says as they are both looking at the three kittens inside the box. “I don’t think they need their mama anymore, but they’re too young to wander around in an alley.”  


The kittens are white, one completely and the other two with a couple of black spots.  


“Cute, aren’t they? You can pet them if you want!”

Encouraged by the young woman’s words Nines lowers himself to a crouch and puts his hand inside the box. The white kitten comes sniffing at his hand, rubbing its chin against his fingers. 

“Aww, she likes you!” 

“She?” Nines carefully folds his hand around the small belly and lifts the young animal from the box to hold it to his chest.

“I checked. Two girls, one boy.”

The kitten’s nails hook in his jacket and he carefully pries them loose. A quick check on the internet tells him what to look for and the cat is indeed female and seems to be in good health at first sight. He estimates her to be about eight weeks old.

“Do you maybe know a good home for them?” The young woman scratches the cat under her chin with her finger. “I’d take them, but we already have three of those furballs at home.”

“I might…” Nines says, the idea not even half formed yet he already likes it.

He walks out of the hospital’s morgue with the pet carrier in his hand, having promised to return the thing tomorrow. The morgue assistant assured him the cardboard box would do fine to bring the other two kittens to the pound. She was very excited for him to take the white kitten and Nines finds himself to share that excitement. The detective should still be at the precinct when he gets back, there is still some time before he will clock out for the day.

Walking into the bullpen with a pet carrier gets him some odd looks, though nobody says anything. Detective Reed is sitting at his terminal, clicking from tab to tab to compare things with each other. He is peering intently at the screen; Nines’ earlier suggestion he might need glasses didn’t go down well.

His partner doesn’t look up as Nines comes to stand on his left side. On the way to the precinct he preconstructed multiple ways to present the detective with his new pet and he found the direct approach the most appropriate. After all, detective Reed likes to be straight forward himself too.  
“Detective, I have something for you.” 

“Is it a dead guy’s fingerprints?” Without looking up from his screen the human holds up his hand and makes a grabby motion. “Gimme.”

Of course. Nines has those too, it was his original purpose for visiting the hospital’s morgue. He extends his hand to his partner’s terminal, the artificial skin peeling back towards his wrist. White and grey chassis connects with the black terminal, transferring the requested data. He adjusts the screen settings while he’s at it, making it easier for the detective to read. It’s a subtle change, the human probably won’t notice it consciously. 

As expected, the stabbing victim pops up in their system, red alerts pinging up on the terminal. Nines pulls them to the front before taking his hand back. 

“Well, wha’do ya know! Our dead guy is connected to two unsolved cases!” The detective gestures at his screen, briefly looking up at the android. He clicks on the credentials, showing that one case was assigned to them, the other to lieutenant Anderson and Connor. Detective Reed scoffs, clicking a few buttons to request changing the assignment of the latter. “Ha! That’s our case now! I bet we can close both of them within the week.”

Nines nods. “I’ll inform our colleagues of their bereavement.” 

His partner leans back in his chair, his arms behind his head. “The fuck, Nines? Did you just make a joke?”

The open smile that the detective sends him causes a temporary software instability. The android doesn’t hurry to patch up the small error, giving himself some time to revel in the sensation.

“Who knows, tin can. There might be a day that you become a real boy!” The smile turns into a smirk, one that is still a hundred times more friendly than the detective’s usual snarky grins.

Nines likes this part of their communication, savours it even. The light hearted banter, the insults without sting. The nickname ‘tin can’ used to be derogatory in the early stages of their partnership; over the months a certain fondness seeped into it. Even ‘terminator’ has its own appeal, as Nines has discovered the detective uses it mostly to refer to his ample strength and superior endurance. Nothing beat the use of the name ‘Nines’ however. Others have started to use it too, many of the humans finding ‘RK900’ to have too many syllables. The android even considers registering it as his official name; he already filled in the file, it is only waiting to be send. Connor asks him from time to time about choosing a name different from his model number and Nines has trouble coming up with a name for himself. Connor and the lieutenant try to help him by giving suggestions, ranging from spins on his model like Richard or Rick to names that sound similar to Connor, like Conan. Not one name stuck, until detective Reed came up with Nines. 

A small mewl pulls Nines back from his internal musings and he notices how his partner is staring at the pet carrier in his left hand. His hands that were behind his head slowly fall back to his side, gripping the armrests of his chair. The detective leans forward, to better look around Nines.  
The android turns the pet carrier towards the detective, lifting it a little so he can have a good look inside. “This is your new cat, detective.”

“My what!?” The astonished look on the detective’s face is one that Nines stores away in his personal folder. His partner is thoroughly surprised, something that is not easily accomplished with a seasoned police detective.  
“The fuck did you do?!”

There’s a hint of anger in the detective’s voice, yet Nines chalks it up to being surprised. His partner doesn’t really like not being in the know. Also a trait of being a police detective.  
“I thought having a new cat would cheer you up,” the android answers pleasantly. “And now you have two cats again, which means they’ll have each other when you’re at work.”

Detective Reed pushes his chair back and stands up. He lacks a few inches to look Nines straight in the eyes, although that never holds him back in confronting the android.  
“So you thought I would like to complete my set again? Like Nancy is a broken vase or something?!” An angry finger is pushed against the android’s chest.

Nines stills, his processors scrambling to find an explanation for his partner’s anger. None of his pre-constructions accounted for this reaction.

The detective turns away from him, hastily shutting down the programs on his terminal. He mutters angrily under his breath. “Fucking plastic prick. Did Nancy’s death fuck up the order of things in your perfect plastic world? Trying to bring back the fucking balance?” 

“I assure you, detective,” Nines hurries to say, “I was only -”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” The detective turns to him again, his face flushed with anger.

That is a question Nines can answer. “Humans have pets for the companionship they experience from them. Losing Nancy made you feel down. I merely wanted you to feel better.”

“And you thought getting me a new cat would be a good idea? On the same day I fucking put one down?” The detective is shouting now, though he quickly lowers his voice again when he notices how much attention they’re attracting. He hisses the next words. “Did you think I would order a new CyberLife android the moment you kicked the can? No, I wouldn’t! Stupid plastic!”

Detective Reed grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and stalks towards the exit. Nines turns to watch him go, too perplexed to know what to do. “Detective! Your pet!” 

His partner flips him off over his shoulder. “You fucking keep it. Your cat, your problem!"

  
A gentle hand falls on his arm. From the corner of his eyes Nines sees the uniform of officer Chen. “I think we should have a chat, big guy.”

 

* * *

 

The door camera shows a familiar white and black jacket with a high collar. Gavin sighs and opens the door. “What are you doing here, tin can?”

“I came to apologize,” is the stilted answer. If possible, Nines’ posture is even straighter than usual. His hands are clasped behind his back and his gaze is strained, like he has trouble looking Gavin in the eyes. The damn terminator is nervous, his LED yellow.  
“You are grieving the loss of your beloved pet and I understand now that you don’t wish to replace her.”

“Well, good for you,” Gavin grumbles, his hand still on the door and ready to close it. “Was that all?”

“I haven’t said sorry yet,” Nines says, clearly confused. His LED is pulsating yellow, meaning he is either very stressed or working through a large package of data. The fucker is really feeling bad.

“I thought that was implied. Whatever, tin can, it’s okay.” The yellow in Nines’ LED does another round or two and then it makes way for the stable blue. Good. Conversation finished. Gavin moves to close the door, dismissing his partner. 

“Detective? Do you care about me?” 

The unexpected question makes Gavin pull the door wide open again. He stares slack jawed at his partner, thinking for a second he must have heard him wrong. The android simply stands there, waiting for his answer. His hands are in front of him now and he’s fucking wringing them - or the understated equivalent of wringing your hands that the android prototype does. His LED is blue, but it’s whirling and it probably will go to yellow again soon.  
Gavin opens his mouth a couple of times before he can get a full sentence out. “What the fuck makes you ask that?”

“You said you wouldn’t replace me if I ever died,” Nines answers, his voice sounding deceptively calm. “I believe you made a comparison between me and your cat. I know you care a lot about your pets.” The android leaves the rest implied:  _ does that mean you care about me too _ ?

Well  _ fuck _ . He did say that, didn’t he? And he should have known the android would value his words, like he always does. Especially when it comes to fucking feelings or emotions. He can be six foot something, he is still not even a year old. His terminator partner is nothing but a big child in some cases, insecure and basically just  _ trying _ .

Gavin could of course make some insulting remark, he has several at the ready to chase the android away from his doorstep. He doesn’t. Nines is his partner. And however stupid his idea of giving Gavin a kitten was, he somewhat appreciates the gesture.  
“Fuck, whatever. If things are around for long enough, you start to get attached to them,” Gavin admits roughly. The android practically preens at his answer, however subtle the emotion displays. Gavin tries to ignore the warm swirl in his chest that is triggered by his partner’s pleased reaction. “Don’t get any ideas, plastic! I’m also attached to my Roomba.”

“I know. You stuck googly eyes to it.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the android showing that small tilt upwards at the corners of his lips that means he is happy. And fuck if that not makes Gavin happy too, no matter how troubling that thought is.

“Wait!” Gavin suddenly exclaims. “What exactly did you do with the cat?”  
Gavin left Nines standing at the precinct with the kitten. He hasn’t been home for that long. Certainly not long enough for Nines to have brought the animal back to the shelter it came from. 

The android tilts his head a little, looking slightly confused again. “You said I should keep it myself,” he says.

Gavin rolls his eyes. Sometimes that million dollar processor can be really slow. “Yeah, yeah, I know what I said. But where is it?”

Nines glances at something a little down the corridor. Sure enough, there is the pet carrier on the floor. There’s a ball of white fur curled up in the back of the carrier.  
“Jezus! You’ve been toting the damn animal all over town?”

The android clasps his hands behind his back again, standing ramrod straight. “There are no pets allowed at the precinct.” 

Ah yes, Gavin should have thought about that. He always tries to forget about the fact that his partner stays at the office at night. That android storage room is too fucking depressing to be thinking about. And of course there is no room for a cat there; it’s not like it can use a stasis pod as a litter box.

“I thought I would take it to the lieutenant’s house,” Nines explains.

“Are you nuts?! Doesn’t he have that large dog? It will fucking eat the poor thing whole!”

“You’re not leaving me with many options, detective.” The android starts to sound a little peeved.

“For fuck’s sake, get inside.” Gavin steps away from the door to give his partner room. “And bring that fucking cat with you.”  
He’s pretty sure he’s going to regret this, even though seeing Nines walk stiffly into his home with the pet carrier in his hand is vaguely endearing.

After making sure the door to the hall is closed and Sid is holed up in his bedroom, Gavin tells Nines to open the door of the pet carrier. “Let her out so she can explore the room.”

The snow white kitten carefully sniffs the edge of the crate before tentatively walking out. She is clearly aware that there is another cat living here and she cautiously steps away from the pet crate. Gavin watches her for a moment before he walks into his kitchen to reheat his forgotten dinner. It was a microwave dinner anyway, heating it up twice won’t make it any worse than it already was. While the microwave buzzes, he puts some food out for his new furry companion. He’ll have to go out and buy kitten food for her tomorrow, but for now the regular will do.

He sits down on the couch, his dinner in his lap. The tiny white cat is sniffing the floor length curtains of his living room window, pushing her little head underneath them. He makes a mental note to get the spray bottle out to prevent the kitten from climbing in his curtains. If you look closely you can still see the damage Nancy did to them when she was young.

To the side of his couch stands six foot plus of looming android. His eyes are fixed on the kitten, though Gavin knows he’s probably keeping check on him too. He undoubtedly has already scanned his meal for high levels of salt or something. Or would he have to taste it to analyse that? Gavin looks down at his plate, imagining the android dipping his finger in the food and sticking it in his mouth for analysing. Less gross than with blood, but still.  
“Would you sit the fuck down?” he exclaims, pointing with his fork to the bit of empty couch to his right. “You’re making me lose my appetite with your looming.”

Nines looks from him to the assigned spot and then tentatively sits down on the seat cushion. They watch the kitten in silence, as she disappears and appears behind the long curtains. Sometimes only her miniature tail is visible, a tiny paw coming to claw at it from underneath the floor length fabric.

“What do you want to name her?” Gavin asks, scraping the last bits of his plate with his fork and putting them in his mouth.

“She’s your cat, detective. Shouldn’t you name her?”

“I said she’s yours, didn’t I?” He puts the plate on the coffee table and kicks his feet up next to it. 

“I’m confused, detective,” the android says, folding his hands in his lap and turning slightly towards Gavin. “I thought letting her into your home implied that she could stay here.”

“She can, yes,” Gavin admits with a sigh. “Sid will probably not mind very much. Nancy always was the bitch of them two, Sid sleeps most of the day anyway. Lazy fucker.”

“Then how can she be my cat?”

“Because you’ll be paying to get her vaccinated and spayed and shit,” Gavin smirks. “I’ll just be her… I don’t know. Think of it as foster care or something.”

The android thinks for a moment before he answers. “That is a satisfactory arrangement.”

"Good - whoah!” Gavin jumps up from his seat to get the kitten out of his curtains. She had started to climb up a good way already. He puts her down on the floor in front of the couch. “Here, you keep an eye on this devil’s spawn while I go fill up the spray bottle.”

He rummages around in his kitchen cabinets until he finds the sprayer in the back of one of the bottom cabinets. He fills it up and places it on the coffee table, within reach for the moment the kitten does something else that will fuck up his home. 

“You named your cats after Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen, two famous figures from the British punk scene in the previous century.” The android is apparently back to the previous question on how to name the cat.

“You’re an excellent detective,” Gavin mocks, making sure he wears the appropriate expression for Nines to pick up on his sarcasm. It wouldn’t be the first time the tin can took his words too literal; though he had come a long way when it came to understanding the gradations in human language.

“I am merely looking up references to see if there is a name that would fit the same category.” The android frowns lightly. “There are many to choose from, many dysfunctional relationships between famous rock stars and groupies, yet there is no name that particularly stands out to me.”

“It doesn’t have to be a name like that,” Gavin says, familiar with Nines’ hopeless indecisiveness when it comes to personal things. Hell, the time Gavin had urged him to wear something else for a change, he had turned up in a navy blue turtleneck, the same brand as the black ones he always wears.  
“You can choose anything you like.”

His partner turns silent, no doubt wracking his brain and searching the entire internet for a suitable name for the cat. His LED goes from blue to yellow, sometimes stuttering back to blue before going back to churning yellow. Gavin turns on the tv, letting the android be. The white kitten has clawed her way up the couch and is now sniffing at his hip. He lets her, knowing she has to get used to his smell and movements. It’s a pretty little thing, her fur completely white. He’ll have to take her to a vet to get her checked out and vaccinated, or maybe have Nines do that for him. 

After the LED next to him has been yellow for a solid fifteen minutes, Gavin sighs. “Stop thinking about a name before you fry your processors, tin can.” 

Nines looks up at him, the frown slowly dissolving into a blank look. “I find myself unable to come up with a suitable name.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Gavin chuckles. “You still go by your model number. You’re not even able to pick a name for yourself.”

“Actually…” The yellow ring at his temple starts turning. “I was thinking of making Nines my official name.”

“Is that so?” Gavin keeps his eyes on the tv, thinking about his partner’s words. Nines is the name  _ he _ gave the android. It started as a nickname, something to call him that didn’t sound like he was berating him. Gavin thought it was quite fitting, though he hadn’t expected the android to immediately take a liking to it back then.

“With your permission, of course.” 

Gavin frowns, shifting his gaze to his partner. “Why would you need my permission for that? It’s your name, it’s your life.”

“You came up with it,” the android explains. 

“Isn’t the whole purpose of having free will and stuff being able to do what you want?” He brushes a hand through his hair. Conversations like this aren’t exactly his forte. “If you like the fucking name, then make it official. I’ll keep calling you whatever I want anyway.”

“Thank you, detective.”

“Gavin.” He rolls his eyes at his partner’s initial incomprehension. “Call me Gavin, dipshit. You might as well…”

Nines does that thing he calls smiling again. It’s just the corners of his mouth lifting up and the skin around his eyes crinkling a little. He doesn’t do it very often, although the frequency seems to have gone up the longer Nines is with the DPD.  _ Or with Gavin _ , his mind supplies unwarranted. Gavin bristles at his own thought, thinking it is perfectly normal to like one’s partner. They work well together, he’s smart and he’s a good detective. Also, Nines is nice to be around, even when it’s sometimes awkward because he has trouble with some parts of deviancy. Like, it’s the first time Nines has been in his home for this long, the first time they hang out outside of work, save some after work drinks with colleagues, and Gavin is perfectly comfortable with having the android on his couch. Even when he’s looking at Gavin like he hung the fucking moon from less than three feet away.

The kitten tumbles over to the android, who scoops her up and places her on his lap. She is hardly bigger than his hand, his fingers curling carefully to scratch her belly. Babies, kittens, the terminator’s hands were gentle with all of them. It didn’t take long for the perfect Kodak moment to appear: a little white ball of fur curled up against the palm of Nines’ hand, fast asleep. 

Gavin puts on an old cop show and him and Nines take turns in digging at the show’s factuality and fake police procedures. He also lets Sid back in the living room again, the lazy fucker only sniffing at the still sleeping kitten before settling in in his usual spot on the armchair. Nancy would’ve knocked the white puffball off the android’s lap, Sid on the other hand barely even cares he has a new roommate.

After a few episodes of the cop show Gavin yawns, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’m gonna hit the sack.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s time for me to go,” Nines answers, shifting gently in an attempt to get up without waking up the small cat in his lap. The little furball has been awake for small bits, Nines taking her to the kitchen for some food and a drink. She did some exploring too, trying to get acquainted with Sid, only to run back to Nines after repeatedly being hissed at. 

“What, and wake tiny up? No, tin can, you’re stuck being a cat bed I’m afraid.” Gavin chuckles, getting up from the couch. “You can stay here if you want, unless you need your stasis pod or something.”

“I don’t require a pod to go into stasis. I could go without stasis for the night too,” Nines answers flatly. His lips pull in a thin line. “Are you sure you want me to stay? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Gavin shrugs. “No problem. You can watch the kitten for me too, make sure she doesn’t get scared alone in the night or attacks my curtains again.”

Nines settles back into his original position on the couch. “I can do that.” 

“Okay. Good night then.” Gavin had almost reached the hallway when he turns back. “Hey, Nines?”

His partner turns his head to him. “Yes, Gavin?”

“You uh.. you need anything?” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like a blanket or something?” 

“I’m good, thank you.” Another one of those smiles.

“Okay. Right. Well. Good night.” It feels a bit weird to leave the android out in his living room for the night, without a blanket or a pillow. Yet he knows the stasis pods are bare too, the androids even stand up in those for hours at a time. Gavin’s old couch is probably more comfortable than those pods.

“Good night,” Nines says and his voice almost sounds warm. “Oh, and Gavin? I think Tiny is a good name for her.” 

“Tiny? Yeah, that suits her, I guess. Then Tiny it is.” Gavin smiles, looking back at his impromptu houseguest one last time. “See ya tomorrow, partner.”

 


End file.
